


I love how my head fits so good in your neck

by lostinthesounds



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, me? doing fluff?, read between the lines, set in season 4, the list scene, totally platonic bed sharing, woah, yeah thats right im going back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-07 18:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20313715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinthesounds/pseuds/lostinthesounds
Summary: As she laid nuzzled into his side, her body curled into him, Bellamy felt like he could finally take a breath and not worry about a single thing. He was with the girl who he trusted with his life, his mind at ease with helping her through a tough situation and feeling oddly relaxed. He felt comfort knowing that the rest of his friends were in different tents around the camp, while he was lying beside Clarke with a head empty of nightmares or thoughts to keep him awake.For the first time in too long, he feels like he could rest.POST 4X03: a alternative list scene set in season four. (bed sharing)





	I love how my head fits so good in your neck

**Author's Note:**

> Taking inspiration from fan edits who reminded me of a headcanon of Bellamy and Clarke bed sharing and comforting eachother at night. 
> 
> (Totally platonic, right?) enjoy!
> 
> SIDE NOTE: **_This Fic was nominated for the “Bed Sharing” category for BWFA on Tumblr! thank you to anyone who nominated me, and voted! It means so much_**

“I would ask why you’re still awake but I have a feeling it’s the same reason for me too,” A voice breaks Clarke out of her trance, flinching to the sound which makes her turn around slowly. She doesn’t hear the other person mutter an apology, but only knows that someone is talking to her. 

Clarke sighs, hoping that her exhaustion isn’t completely transparent. Her hand grabs onto the arm rest of the chair she’s sitting in, wanting something to ground her to reality. She doesn’t know if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, because there’s a familiar voice she recognizes and a man leaning against the door frame like he’s waiting for her to see him. 

It takes a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, it was hard since she had been staring at the same ninety names for the past two hours—but she lets the ends of her mouth lift into a smile. It was weak but genuine, directed at Bellamy. 

“How did you know I wasn’t sleeping?” 

She questioned him lightly, careful of his footsteps in an empty room. There’s a tension between them, knowing that the survival of the human race was once again, dependent on their decisions. She also knew that once they started to talk about the hard choices, it would create a much larger burden on their shoulders for the rest of their lives. It was better to start early, to create the list as the last _possible_ alternative—just as precaution to the bunker being inhabitable—but who was Clarke to have to decide who lives or dies? 

On the outside, she was seen as a terrifying symbol to signal that death was near—however, she felt like she was just a girl who had to do what was best for her people, and hardships came along with that responsibility—so what _now_? 

It was the reason she left her name for last, and she had no reasoning to put her name on this list. 

To rid herself of the thoughts that creep into the back of her mind, she shakes her head and tries to look for Bellamy’s gaze that’s scattered around the office space. 

She joked with him, fully knowing it was a lie. “I could’ve been sleeping, and you made me jump and ruin it.” 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything, only finding his way to sit on the edge of the cot in the corner of the room. Now, with his attention on Clarke, again, his tone is soft. “You don’t need to lie to me, I know you’ve been working on that list.” 

He knows her so well. 

Clarke is absent minded to the way her shoulders tense, as she tries to keep her back straight against the chair. She blinked up at him, “I tried to sleep earlier but I couldn’t. So I just took it out to look over the names.” She tells him the truth this time, deciding to be open with the one person she trusts. 

Bellamy nods, biting his lip. There’s a million thoughts in his head, yet he only tells her this: “I understand if you don’t think my name belongs on that list, there’s a ton of other people who deserve to live, especially more than me.” 

Clarke knew he had to get this off his chest before it consumed him, so she waits to cut him off. He was the one person she’d always need by her side, and her heart is pounding hard in her chest when she realizes what he meant. 

He didn’t think he deserved to live. 

To _survive_. 

Along with her heart that almost entirely his to take, she finds the courage to admit that she did, in fact, add his name on the list. 

She narrowed her eyes to his sunken head that hid his emotions, “Your name is on the list, Bellamy. How could it _not_ be?” She was naturally curious as to why he thought otherwise. 

They both have done terrible things that manage to be forgiven, justified in any way that could make them wake up every morning and not regret their life choices. If there was one person that understood sacrifice, that stood by Clarke’s side when she was hurting by the tough decisions she’s made, it was Bellamy. 

She also knew something else. When Clarke was gone after the events at the Mountain, Bellamy _was_ the leader that her friends stuck to. If he could do this without her, then why would she need to be on the list as well? 

Her people had a trustworthy, and strong leader to look after them. She couldn’t compare, not when she’s done the things she’s been forced to do. 

Bellamy’s head perks up, his vulnerable side shining through. For some reason, it makes Clarke forget about how bad she wants to close her eyes.

He becomes awestruck, it was the last thing he ever expected her to say. “How about you?” 

Seeing him like this: so cautious and caught off guard with how much she cares for him, it reminded her of the old Bellamy. The one who was yet to experience war, pain, and tragedy—the one she would want to rip her hair out after more than a few minutes of talking to him—the Bellamy that made leadership _easy_. He was stubborn, optional and bent over backwards for the people he cared about. And now, she's looking at the man he's become, with a beige t-shirt that's stretched out across his shoulders yet hangs nicely on his frame and cargo pants that he's worn for months on end. His hair tangled and falling onto his forehead, covering his brow as he doesn't break eye contact with her. He’s grown into a different person, there’s no denying that. 

The intensity seems to grow in his gaze, and suddenly he's standing. His brown eyes go wide when he seems to understand why she hasn’t answered him. “_Clarke_." He warned, afraid of acknowledging the truth when it’s right in front of his face. 

She couldn't look at him anymore, because her silence was _telling_ him the answer he wanted. 

"Your name has to be on that list, Bellamy." She reasons instead, her voice small. It wasn't meant to convince him but an excuse to leave herself out of making a mistake. 

"So?" He grits his teeth, a show of anger rising in his chest. "I asked about you." 

In other situations, she would find her will to fight back. Clarke was always a fighter, but with exhaustion seeping through her bones reminding her of the people who has died by her hand in the past-it all became too much to handle-the pressure to do what was right was beating her down. It would be her fault if her people rebel, if her friends despise her actions, and if Bellamy dies. All of it. She was tired of being the cause of everyone's problems, so it was only right to take herself away. 

Bellamy strides over to Clarke, her body hunched over the desk and pen forgotten besides the large piece of paper. 

He takes one look one glance at the bottom of the page and his voice is shaky when he sighs deeply. 

"I see my name, Clarke." When he says her name, it doesn't fill her chest with warmth like usual.. He was supposed to understand, he was supposed to be the one person that knew why she had to do this. For the survival of their people, so that _he_ can survive. He exhales, "But not yours." 

"They have you, it's all they need." Clarke says simply, adjusting in her seat as a response, giving her something else to do rather than looking him in the eyes to face her confession. It made sense, because she knew that her friends would be in good hands. It would be greedy to add her name to a list that she _made_ that ultimately gives everyone else an excuse to want her dead. 

She'd be doing them a favor. 

Bellamy stuttered, "W-_What_?" He sets the paper down, deciding that he's had enough of Clarke putting herself as second best. She deserved this just as much as he did, and that wouldn't change. "No, I'm not letting you do this." 

Clarke's eyes snap up to his, gazes locked instantly as she stares into his wild eyes. He doesn't want to see her die, of course he wouldn't want to see his co-leader die. 

"I'm not putting my name on the list." She take a guess as to what he would say next. Something along the lines of, not being able to watch her sacrifice herself for the good of their people when she should be front and center. 

So when he doesn't, it leaves her speechless. 

He says instead, "If I'm on that list, you're on that list." Bellamy picks up the pen with careful hands, her attention never wavers from the harsh grip of his fingers wrapping around the pen or when his hand hovers the page as he prepares himself to write her name. 

"Bellamy, _don't_." Clarke sobs, hand reaching forward to grab the pen from his hand but he was too quick. He pulled his hand away before she could make contact and he could feel the way his heart broke in that moment. 

With his eyes filled of emotion, narrowed the solely focused on the sound of her hand thumping against the table. "You'll regret not putting your name down, and I won't let that happen." 

She shakes her head, as she feels a few tears run down her cheeks. "I don't deserve this, everyone will hate me for putting my name down. I don't deserve to live when innocent people are going to die, Bellamy." 

Bellamy inhaled sharply, the pen creating a circle of black ink on the paper from the pressure of his hand against it.

“Clarke, there's bound to be arguments about this list either way-" He paused, unsure if he should admit something that could change everything. An emotion that he's only felt around Clarke, one that he's buried too deep into his heart multiple times because he's always thinking that there would never be enough time to talk to her about how he feels. He feels so _much_ for her, and he wonders if he will ever get to tell her. 

But, that's all it would be. A dream, a hope for the future, a wish that someday time would slow down. 

He swallows most of his words, and sets his other hand on top of Clarke's clenched fist to calm her. It makes him realize that now wasn't the time, that he couldn't tell her how he felt with the fate of the world unknown and when their people need saving. Bellamy peels her fingers out from her fist, and interlocks them with his and he doesn't shy away from the way she looks at him. Like the books he read when he was younger, a familiar sense of disbelief and light in Clarke's eyes was all he could see. It was everything he wanted to focus on, something he would hope to hold onto for the rest of his life. (Thanks to Clarke, he would last a while longer. And, there was no way he would go on without her) 

After a minute passes, he finally knows what to say. 

"People will be upset, and there's no changing that." Bellamy whispered, his voice somehow taking away the doubt and uncertainty that fills Clarke's body. "However, nobody knows how much you've given up to protect our people. Nobody else knows you better than I do, and Clarke-I can't do this without you, okay?" He squeezed her hand, emotions getting the best of him as he kneels on the floor when she squeezed back to respond. He's leveled with her, the intimate moment of knowing he couldn't live without her was out in the open, she _knew_ this now. "If you think I'm deserving of living a long life because of what I've done to survive, then I'm telling you the same." 

"Do you really think we could do this?" Clarke grips his hand tighter, and Bellamy gladly takes the pain. "There's so many things we don't know about what's coming for us." 

He knows it's true, and he doesn't ignore how they would be walking into their issues blindly. 

"We have hope if we're still breathing." Bellamy says, his brows furrowed together as he tries to decide for himself if it was the best thing to say. Hope was always tricky for him, he could never have enough of it or his aspirations would be crushed. It was something that could be gone with a snap of his fingers, that's how he understood loss and gain. "We could survive this, Clarke." 

She nods her head weakly, knowing she could trust his word but in fear of the worst--she had to be stubborn about what could happen if she lost everything she ever cared for--if she lost Bellamy. The thought of not having him in life was starting to consume her, she needed a confirmation that he was truly in front of her. In an effort to distract herself from what she wanted, she lets go of his hand which gave him the cue to stand and grab the pen at the edge of the table. 

He had set it down before he kneeled on the floor, deciding that Clarke was more important in that moment than her name on a piece of paper. Now, he grips the pen in his hands as her name is written in big block letters and filling the last spot on the list. 

For Bellamy, the thought of the world ending had completely slipped his mind. He ignored the responsibilities, the burden on his shoulders, and just focused on Clarke who was held upright by her elbow and head cradled in her hand. 

When the exhaustion finally hits her, she doesn't think of the possible consequences of reaching forward and grabbing Bellamy's arm. When she pulls him close enough so that the shock of her actions wears off enough so that the pen can drop from his hands, she pulls herself up and into his embrace. Clarke wraps both arms around his neck, her breathing slowing down with every second because she knows she could be comfortable around him. Her fingers play with the short curls at the nape of his neck, and even in her sleepy daze, she's aware of how he gives into her affection. 

When he understands what's happening, Bellamy pulls her closer to his chest and wraps a single arm around her waist to keep her upright. 

"You know what I want to do?" She questioned, and his mouth opens to reply but she wasn't done talking. "I wanna sleep." 

Bellamy thinks back to the countless times where Clarke has lost the people she cared about to decisions she's made, to the sacrifices that she'll have to live with for the rest of her life because of the trauma that resulted from being a strong person. She was always strong, but she was also a human being. In moments like these, where her walls are broken down and she lets him inside her heart to share the pain and how she truly feels about herself--he cherishes them. Because, she was a girl who just wanted to sleep and feel her head against a pillow. 

She wants the simple things, _things_ not involving deciding the fate of her people. 

"Then, sleep." He told her, voice muffled by the position of his lips resting against the side of her head. "I won't let anything happen to you," To make his promise seem less of a statement that would scare her away because in reality, he would always put her before himself. "Or let anyone bother you until the morning." 

When Bellamy starts to untangle him from her warmth, he only makes it halfway across the room before his name is called out. He thought it was for the best, for Clarke to be alone so that she could sleep peacefully because he knew how tired she had been for the last few days. _Months_, even. 

He didn’t want to be a distraction. 

But, as Clarke shifts on the heels of her feet anxiously as she stares at him with a plead dying on the tip of her tongue: he knows what she _wanted_. 

He asks her just to make sure, to test the waters between them. “Will you be alright for the night?” 

“I’m fine now, thanks to you.” She assured him, then her eyes lock on the bedsheets that were tangled in the middle of her bed. However, Clarke doesn’t look at Bellamy when she continues to speak. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to, I know it’s late and you were also the one who wasn’t able to sleep earlier—“ She began to ramble to herself, and she ends up shaking her head at the thought and waves her hand to say goodbye. “Which means you’d probably want to get back to bed too.” 

The realization dawned on her, and she moves quickly to disregard the list back into a desk drawer and hope that Bellamy doesn’t see the tears welling up in her eyes. 

When he doesn’t dare move from his spot, is what makes her regret what she’s said to him. 

“I don't have to leave?” He questioned her, and when she doesn’t respond because she’s too busy trying to close the draw completely shut—he takes matters into his own hands and walks a few steps to catch her hand—and it makes her eyes go wide. “Do you want me to stay?” 

She tilts her head at him, trying to tug her hand back as if it would change her mind if she worded it differently. "You don't _have_ to go." 

"Okay," Bellamy says in response, cautious with his voice barely audible. "I won't leave, if that's what you want." He implied, wanting further encouragement to sleep in her bed. Would she let him? 

"I want you to stay." She replied and pulled her hand away, eyes looking anywhere but the man in front of her. 

Bellamy doesn't think much of it, but feels his heart begin to burst in his chest. He tries to ignore the butterflies quickly brewing deep in his chest, but then Clarke hesitates to make the first move when she flickers the light off. 

There's a dim light in the hall way, either the moonlight shining against the concrete or lamp lights--and it's the only way he could see her footsteps get closer to him after a few seconds of being apart. 

It's all he allowed himself to focus on, because then she begins to tug at his hand to signal that she wants to get under the covers and Bellamy has no choice but to follow. 

* * *

Clarke has one arm sprawled across his chest, and he's so sure that she could feel how intense his heart was beating in that moment. 

As she laid nuzzled into his side, her body curled into him, Bellamy felt like he could finally take a breath and not worry about a single thing. He was with the girl who he trusted with his life, his mind at ease with helping her through a tough situation and feeling oddly relaxed. He felt comfort knowing that the rest of his friends were in different tents around the camp, while he was lying beside Clarke with a head empty of nightmares or thoughts to keep him awake. 

For the first time in too long, he feels like he could rest. 

Even if he had to think about the wave of fire (something he still couldn't understand) preparing it's wrath on humanity tomorrow morning, it would be worth saving the feeling of anxiety and nerves creeping up his back. It was constant, nagging at him until it consumed his every motion and word he says to the people that _trust_ him. Those thoughts would be one for the morning, because the only constant he wanted to feel in that moment—along with the tapping of Clarke's fingers against his chest—was the weight of her against him. To prove that she was alive, and breathing, and leading their people with him. 

He wouldn't be able to live without her, it was the truth. 

She was his rock, his motivation, the reminder that he _can_ do better. They've been through so much together, events he could never of dreamed as a child happening to him because Bellamy thought he would never step foot on the ground. That his life would mean nothing, that his sister would always be under the floor and excluded, that he would never breathe the same air as Clarke Griffin. But, now he can't see his life or his future without her. Just seeing her blonde hair, her invisible halo of light and beauty as if sent for him to believe.... 

"You're thinking too loud," Clarke snaps him out of his thoughts, her head adjusting to rest on top of his chest. His breath hitched softly, she doesn't hear when he does, when she embraces him in a hug to keep him close. "I told you I wanted to sleep." 

Bellamy rests his arm behind his head, wanting her to have the most pillow space possible. "Why am I stopping you?" With his thoughts temporarily forgotten, he teases her softly while looking down at the crown of her head. "I was _quiet_, Clarke." 

"I'm sorry that I want both of us to sleep and get some rest." She bit back, with the same playful banter and hides her face in his shirt. 

Although, Bellamy knows she only wants the best for him; it doesn't stop him from poking a finger in her side to make her jump and burst into a fit of giggles. He catches her though, swiftly wrapping an arm around her waist and keeping her against him. 

"_Bellamy_." She whined in a small voice, as her laughter dies down. "Stop it please, I haven't been able to sleep in weeks." 

"Fine." He ends their mini argument, finding himself to be content when she nuzzles against him—rubbing his hand up and down her spine when his chest fills with a deep warmth that makes him smile to himself—and he finished by saying, "If you don't want me to think, then I'll have to talk out loud." 

"Bell—“ 

"Don't tell me you would kick me out next." He warns her, but his cheeks begin to ache from smiling. 

If he feels one thing right then, it would be serenity. 

"No, I-" She pauses, and lifts her head to look at him in the eyes. He doesn't move when she admits, "I like it when you talk, it calms me down." 

Mindlessly, his hand tangles in her hair that starts at the nape of her neck and rubs a few circles into her skin as if to tell her that he would talk for as long as he needed to until her eyes fluttered shut. He bits his lip to avoid saying something that shouldn't be allowed during their pillow talk, and assured her. 

"I'll tell you stories," He decides, and sighed softly when she got comfortable with her hand twisted in the hem of his shirt. The material was thin, so he felt her intakes of breath against his skin that made him know when she was falling asleep. Bellamy decides to fit his stories slightly to the topic of his life, yet he changes some things around. "I told these to Octavia when she was younger, so I think we should start off with how things all began. The universe, _all_ of it." 

Later, when he looks up at the ceiling, eyes fighting to stay open so he could remember this moment and how it feels to hold Clarke—he thinks of the stories he whispered into her ear for a little over twenty minutes—and he comes to a conclusion. If there was a universe filled with an abyss of stars and planets, holding the secret of how Earth survives the death wave until it's final breath, then why did Bellamy feel like he was holding the world in his hands? 

The only world he'd ever want to live in, it was _with_ Clarke. 


End file.
